


Dog

by Okatte



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okatte/pseuds/Okatte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One more mission done, one more bar visited, and one more thing Gaby wants to forget.<br/>Alcohol, a dog dress, and one persistent German won't allow it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog

Another mission completed, another country at rest. Nerves frayed to their ends and prayers were sent up and down these past couple days. The title of most stressful mission went to the last one, with everyone surprised that Illya had managed to keep his anger in check long enough to rescue Gaby.  After all, no one even touched Gaby without severe retribution.

The soil of West Germany greeted the weary agents as they stepped off the plane. Night had fallen long ago and everyone still ached from the enemy's’ retaliation. Even though they were all exhausted, Napoleon- in his normal pompous self- declared a celebration was in order for a job well done. Illya gave a disgruntled growl, but Gaby was all for it. Nothing like the wonderful insidious grasp of German alcohol to help her forget the happenings of today.

Gaby would have preferred to change out of her mission clothes and into something more comfortable, but Napoleon was adamant in almost a frantic manner. They had to go _now_ , it had to be _this_ bar, come on Peril why are you taking so _long?_ So she sat at the bar, motioning for a drink in a dress that probably cost more than the entire stock of alcohol. As she sipped her drink, she tried not to think about the clothes she was wearing and the giant dog that was upon it. Why someone would construct a dress so garish was beyond her, but Waverly had overruled both Illya’s protests and Napoleon’s complaining. The target only cared about dogs, women, and money, so it only made sense that an expensive giant dog dress with a beautiful women in it would increase Gaby’s chances of meeting him.

The entire mission hinged on Gaby’s ability to charm the target into taking her home. Her purse practically was brimming with bugs to place around the house and around her neck hung Illya’s tracker ring. Once the bugs were planted, she would play the airhead and not know what he wanted with her. This target was an oddity. Without the violent crime attached to his name, you would think the target was a perfect gentleman. Stories floated around about naive girls being let out of the house without being forced into bed. Though it grated on Gaby to act like an airhead, it was her only chance to get out of the house of her own. Once Gaby said she wanted to leave, he would act like he always did, politely open the door and watch her go.

Except it didn’t happen like that at all.

Her boys were overly worried as usual when she was sent in solo (Napoleon made a terrible joke at that), but she had assured them she would be fine. She was comfortable enough with the acting and the UNCLE training; if all failed, Illya would be close by.

Except Illya couldn’t rescue her in time and she knocked back another shot of her drink and motioned for another one.

The bar itself wasn’t bad. A glossy counter, low light, and dark wood all gave a very sultry look to the place. On one side the the bartender dutifully wiped the counter and on the other the taps shone with obvious pride. Not one hooker or a target of Napoleon’s in sight. A certain change from the usual bars that Napoleon dragged their little team to.

She was grateful.

Per the usual, Napoleon stood a few chairs down from her at the bar, chatting up a young blonde. The unusual part though, was the concerned glances he shot her way every few minutes, completely ignoring the girl. Judging from her awestruck expression and delighted smile however, she didn’t notice at all.

While Napoleon flirted and Gaby drank, Illya had gone to use the restroom. The shock had worn off by now, but Gaby recalled fondly the first when the Russian had given the reason for his absence.

“But Peril, I thought you a Russian machine,” Napoleon had quirked his lip and laughed. “So maybe you do have a little in common with us.” At that, Gaby giggled a bit and Illya had just sighed and left.

Completely focused on the drink, Gaby didn’t notice the man sidling up next to her at the bar. Only UNCLE training kept her from jumping when the man spoke.

“Well, hello darling,” the man had said, pulling her hand up to kiss. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing at a place like this?”

He couldn’t be serious. No. Gaby was not in the mood for this. No mood for suitors after that mission. Gaby raised an eyebrow and went back to sipping her drink. Then just shot the rest of it back and held a finger up for another. Her head began to buzz as the alcohol started to take hold. After almost dying, maybe she deserved to have a little fun. The drink slid into her waiting hand and Gaby judged how long this encounter would take. It would be fine, she decided, and looked over the man.

He was certainly German, blond hair and everything. His face was open and trustworthy, but after working with Napoleon for so long, you begin to see through the flattery and fawning to the true intentions. She gave a half-drunk grin meant to disarm. “What’s your name?’

The man mirrored her grin and took a seat next to her. “I am Deiter. And you, beautiful angel?”

Wow he was laying it on thick. “My name’s Gaby.” She gestured with her drink. “And what are you doing here Deiter?”

He sighed deeply, dipping his head until it was at the perfect ‘sad’ level. Swiveling until his back was against the bar, he stared into her eyes with a mournful expression. “I’m here to find love, but I guess I can leave.”

Well he certainly was interesting. Gaby’s face turned to a frown. “Why is that?” She asked as she took another sip of her drink.

“Well,” Deiter drawled. “I think I already found it. She’s sitting next to me.”

Gaby couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Well sir, I’m afraid I’m already attached.” She moved the tracker ring from her necklace to her finger and waggled it at him. Hopefully he would respect it and leave. Right now, she just needed reassurance that others would respect her decisions.

God knows the target didn’t.

Gaby turned back to her drink, waiting to see his reaction.

“It’s a beautiful ring, but there’s a reason it was on your neck and not on your finger.” He gave Gaby a sly glance and suddenly she became very uncomfortable. Memories arose, unbidden, of another man giving her the same glance as she turned to leave. The alcohol was making her brain fuzzy. She didn’t want to do this anymore. It only brought the mission’s events back.

Gaby shook her head vehemently, hands clutching the glass until her knuckles began to turn white. “No, really, I’m fine. I-” She shook her head again. “I’m fine by myself thank you.”

By this time, Napoleon already had half-turned from his conversation catch Gaby’s eye. _Need me to step in?_ he seemed to ask. Gaby shook her head once more and waved her hand at Deiter, motioning him away.

Finishing her drink, Gaby stood up. “It’s been nice talking to you Deiter, but I’m fine thank you. I’m very happy and just want another drink.” She held her arm out to the door, praying he’d take the hint.

Instead, Deiter grabbed her arm. Napoleon straightened across the bar, ready to intervene if necessary. “Listen Gaby, you are incredible. Let me take you home, just one night.” He appeared pleading, but his body posture read he he knew what he wanted.

Gaby yanked her arm away. “Let me go.” A scuffle sounded as Napoleon rose from his chair.

This time Deiter grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. “Fine then. You like dogs yes?”

Confusion filled Gaby’s features until she looked down at her dress. “I suppose so. Why?”

Deiter cracked a vicious smile. Gaby swallowed hard as a cruel expression slid over Deiter’s face. “I love you darling, and you love dogs. If I cannot be your love, I’ll be your dog.” He grabbed her and pulled her close until she could smell the alcohol on his breath. “I’ll be your loyal German dog.”

In her safety of her own mind, Gaby scoffed. These kinds of men never were subservient. What he said were only words, only words that would turn her into a blushing mess that allowed him to take her arm and take her home. They manipulated until they got what they wanted and threw away the pieces. Footsteps echoed as she heard Napoleon slowly stroll over behind her. Napoleon was great and all, but who Gaby really wanted right now was-

Ah.

A figure behind Deiter caught Gaby’s eye. Relief bloomed in her chest and vindictiveness rose in her heart. She turned to Deiter, cupping one hand around his face. His eyes shot up from the lower portions of her dress as she spoke.

Forget alcohol. This is what she needed. “Why,” she purred, watching his eyes drank her in greedily. “Would I have a loyal German dog if I already have a loyal Russian one?”

His hands,already  rising to clasp her, froze in confusion. Dieter heard, _felt_ rather, someone behind him.

Illya stood with his arms folded, finger tapping slowly on his bicep.

Gaby smiled beautifully. “Illya, attack.” And poured one more glass of vodka down her throat.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up thinking, "I need a line where Gaby refuses someone else because she already has her 'loyal Russian dog" and thus this fic was born. Leave a comment and find me on Tumblr at okattematte. Hope you enjoyed!


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